


Bedtime for Dogs and Wolves

by professorcockblock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorcockblock/pseuds/professorcockblock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ridiculous and shameless almost-fluff ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime for Dogs and Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, so please ignore the probable abundance of grammatical horrors.

Sleep often eludes Remus. The stars and the night call to him. And the moon, of course. He supposes that’s what it’s down to really, the wolf. Sometimes he wonders how much else of him is down to the wolf too.  
He doesn’t mind it so much here though, the insomnia. James and Peter compete for snoring supremacy but the soft hum of Sirius’s breath in the next bed makes Remus smile, even in the enveloping darkness. He finds it delightfully unexpected that Sirius is such a quiet, peaceful sleeper. He supposes that perhaps everybody needs time off sometimes.  
Sirius’ delicate breath fills Remus with a deep and quiet restlessness right down in the pit of his stomach. He’s not even quite sure how it manages to fit in there, what with all the toast and marmalade and essential organs and the suchlike, but it does. It’s an unanticipated but not altogether unpleasant feeling at first, and then it feels like home. In the haze of tiredness Remus wonders vaguely if Sirius’s breathing should really be allowed to make him feel like that. James and Peter’s snores feel like dungbombs and detention and marauders maps and the very best kind of friendship, but it’s not really the same thing.  
Remus becomes aware that the slow, steady murmur of Sirius’s breath has stopped. At least a minute crawls past before creaking floorboards signify movement. The hangings on Remus’s four-poster open and he feels his body involuntarily tense for a moment as he registers the dark outline of Sirius, bare chested and beautiful in the eerie light of the moon through the window. For the briefest of instants that moon doesn’t seem so bad after all.

‘You are extremely loud, Remus’ Sirius says, looking down at the mass of werewolf and bedclothes below him with an unmistakable frown of annoyance on his face.

‘What?’ says Remus, surprised.

‘You. Loud. Extremely. I could hear you _thinking_ all the way from over on my bed.’

‘Thinking?’ Remus repeats,

‘Yes. Thinking. Extremely loudly. In fact I’m fairly sure you woke me up with all that thinking.’

‘Please accept my sincerest apologies, all thinking will be halted immediately.’

‘Good. Prongs will be thrilled.’

‘Quite.’

Remus is having difficulty keeping up with the conversation due to the extremely distracting half-naked Sirius Black obscuring his immediate line of sight. He feels it’s a little unfair for the universe to have sprung such a situation on him unawares and still expect him to form coherent sentences.

‘Budge up then.’

Remus continues to curse the cruel, cruel universe for torturing him so as he shifts over to make room for the both of them of the squashy yet majestic four-poster. Sirius settles in and absently throws an arm around his waist, and Remus tries desperately to ignore the heat of skin against skin.

‘What you thinking about so loudly then, Moony?’ Sirius says in a quiet low voice, the vibrations of which lie blissfully on Remus’s neck. Close. Close. Too close.

‘Transfiguration,’ Remus lies.

Sirius smiles, ‘Nobody sits awake at night thinking about transfiguration, Moony. Not even Remus Lupin’s.’

Sirius’ face is in the crook of Remus’s neck, where pale scars meet his shoulder reaching down to claim him as their own, and every breath the boy takes tingles dangerously on Remus’s pale skin.

‘Peter and James. They snore.’ Remus says. Slowly. Quietly.

‘Well observed.’

‘You don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Snore.’

‘Oh.’ And then, ‘How rude of me.’

Remus wonders for if other boys share beds like this. And if they do, he wonders if they fit together like he and Sirius do, not quite like a puzzle, more like two halves of the same thing. He finds himself hoping that other boys don’t, that this is something that belongs to them alone.

‘You sort of _breathe_.’

‘Most people would consider that good practice.’

‘It’s nice, you know.’

‘What is?’

‘Your breathing.’

‘Oh.’ Sirius sounds a little surprised but Remus can feel him smile against his skin. He feels a little sick for a moment. ‘You should try to get some sleep, Moony. It’s long past bedtime for dogs for wolves and mischief won’t make itself tomorrow.’

‘Mmmm.’ Remus can already feel his eyelids getting heavy, and thinks how impossible it is that he’s falling asleep with Sirius’s soft curves and hard angles occupying his personal space, invading all his hidden corners. But then again, he thinks, it’s probably because of Sirius’s presence that slumber has finally come to take him away. ‘G’night, Padfoot.’

And then the softest, slightest brush of lips against Remus’s neck, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, ‘Night, Moony.’


End file.
